Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy #2)

“Says the girl with one that barely runs.”

Her shoulders stiffen at the insult. “Sorry, I don’t have a bazillion dollars of dirty money to build a supercar collection.”

“You make your money feeding people’s addictions. How is it any different from what I do? We’re both in the business of sin, just in different ways.”

“I don’t even know what the hell you really do. And don’t make me sound like a drug dealer. My business is perfectly legal.” Her chin lifts with her condescending tone.

Rather than address the part of her comment about not knowing what I really do—because that’s something I have no plans to ever tell her—I focus on the one thing she can’t deny.

“Tell me alcoholism can’t be just as destructive as drug addiction.”

“It’s different!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, but get off your high horse once in a while to acknowledge that what you do isn’t pure and innocent either.”

She snaps her mouth closed, and I assume it’s because she doesn’t have a reply. Again, I’m wrong.

“Take me to the booze. You better have the good stuff.”

I think of the whiskey I almost drank earlier but wouldn’t, because I didn’t want to feed into my obsession with her. That goal is well and truly fucked after tonight.

“I have the best of everything, and that includes liquor.”

I wrap my hand around hers and pull her to a secret door in the garage that leads into the network of internal hallways, rather than going by way of the normal entrance.

She tries to tug her hand away, but my grip is stronger. Eventually, she stops fighting in favor of asking questions.

“How much did it cost to build all these? Or were they already here? Are those peepholes? Oh my God, do you have peepholes into my room?” Abruptly, she stops moving, forcing me to a halt.

I turn halfway, just enough to meet her horrified gaze. “Why would I need peepholes when I have cameras on every angle of your rooms?”

Her mouth drops open and she sucks in an outraged breath. “I can’t believe you let people watch me! Us!” She lifts her free hand like she’s going to slap me again, but I snag it in midair, which is turning out to be a handy skill with this fiery redhead.

“You got in your only free shot tonight. The next time you try to hit me, I’ll take it out on your ass, tenfold. Actions have consequences. Especially if there are other eyes watching.”

I’m not sure which part of what I said finally penetrates, but her hand goes slack.

“Do you really think I’d let anyone see your tits, your ass, or your pussy? You’re mine, and I don’t fucking share. No one has access to those feeds but me. The control room only watches your tracker on GPS, and when they alerted me, I pulled the private camera feeds.”

Her head jerks back again. “Tracker? I’m wearing a tracking device?” Her voice rises another octave as she pats down her clothes, all of which have been supplied by my people. When her fingers touch the necklace chain, her mouth drops open. “It’s not just a lock, is it? You chipped me like a damn dog.”

“Quit referring to yourself as a dog. You might act like a bitch sometimes, but you’re sure as fuck not as obedient as one. Be fucking grateful I had that tonight. What else could’ve happened to you if V and I hadn’t gotten there?”

When she yanks at the chain until it threatens to break her skin, I close my fingers over hers, stilling her movement. “Leave it alone. It’s not coming off.”

Her gaze burns into mine, and I can see the words she wants to speak but has been forbidden from uttering. I hate you.

At least she’s learning.

We reach the hidden library entrance, and I pull her against my chest.

“Let me go.”

She struggles against me, but I squeeze tighter. “Shut up, Keira.”

The platform spins, and I release her as soon as we’re in the library.

She darts across the room as if she can’t get away from me fast enough.

Try all you want, hellion. It won’t work.

She stops in front of the sideboard with the crystal decanters, not waiting to be served.

Lifting the stopper from one decanter, she sniffs it and wrinkles her nose, then unstops another bottle and inhales. She repeats the process until she whirls around to face me, and I know exactly which decanter is gripped in her hand.

“How did you get Spirit of New Orleans? You can only get it in our restaurant, and I sure as hell didn’t send you one of the promotional bottles.”

I give her a look that can only be interpreted as Are you seriously asking me that question?

Keira rolls her eyes. “When I find out who got it for you, I’m going to have to fire them. You know that, right?”

My laugh booms out, surprising us both. “Like I need inside help. You, on the other hand, need to upgrade security at your storehouses.”

Pure shock flashes across her features. “You stole a barrel of my best whiskey? How dare—”

I stride across the room, stopping a foot from her. “I dare whatever the fuck I please. One of these days, you’ll figure that out.”

A growl escapes her throat as she turns around and pours herself a tumbler before tossing it back. “You’re—”

I close the gap between us and press my palms to the wood on either side of her, trapping her against my body. Her spine stiffens when my chest touches her back.

“What am I, Keira? Tell me.” My lips almost brush her ear.

She releases another growl of frustration, and I want to fucking devour her. “Impossible. You’re impossible.”

With a smirk on my lips, I drop my nose to the curve where her shoulder and neck meet, and inhale. “And you smell like me and filthy, incredible sex. Now, pour me a fucking drink and tell me what the hell happened.”

I’ll give her credit—her hand doesn’t shake as she pours three fingers into her glass and another. I step away and wait for her to turn around. When she does, any shock from my words has been wiped clean from her face.

Impressive.

I accept the tumbler she holds out as she sips her own, closing her eyes to appreciate the flavor, and I force myself to look away before I get a hard-on just from watching her drink.

She lowers the tumbler from her lips and speaks like the few moments before didn’t happen. Again, I’m impressed at how unaffected she’s able to make herself sound.

“I always forget how good this is. I swear I could drink a bottle myself.” When I narrow my gaze on her, she rolls her eyes. “You do realize I was practically raised on whiskey. I’m no lightweight.”

“You’re not drinking an entire bottle tonight.” I move back to lean against one of the chairs, set my glass down untouched, and cross my arms. “You’re telling me what that piece of shit said.”